


All That's Learnt & All There Is To Learn

by sweeterthankarma



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: F/M, Music Causes Feelings, Past Relationship(s), Xavier Dolls Backstory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-21
Updated: 2018-01-21
Packaged: 2019-03-07 12:57:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13435197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweeterthankarma/pseuds/sweeterthankarma
Summary: Anonymous requested, "Waverly is fixing Dolls laptop. Finds an old video of Dolls playing beautiful piano in a duet with a lovely cellist. More shocking than the musicianship is the relaxed, open manner between the obvious couple after the set. Waverly feels Wynonna standing behind her."





	All That's Learnt & All There Is To Learn

Wynonna doesn’t know how long she’s been standing in the doorway. Waverly sits at the kitchen table, computer parts spread around the counter, still as the video plays. Wynonna was originally going to call her out for snooping when she walked in and saw a video open and playing on a laptop that definitely isn’t hers- Waverly’s is pink and covered in rainbow unicorn stickers, because of course it is. There was a joke on her tongue, something about how if anyone should be searching his files and looking for her boss’s sex tape it should be her, but then she saw what was on the screen and any words dissipated as quickly as they came.

She doesn’t know what’s the most surprising. The fact that Dolls had a life before he came to Purgatory- she knew he did, but like...a  _ happy  _ one?- or the knowledge that he’s musically inclined are both shockers, because if anything she’d always pegged him for being a secretly insane breakdancer, and if he did do music, she definitely didn’t imagine piano. He can be stoic and quiet and meticulous, but even then, that isn’t the Dolls she sees in the video. He’s across from a cellist, a young woman with shoulder length light brown hair, and he smiles at her as she plays, focused but still grinning back. There’s something intimate and natural about the way they exchange glances, their movements calculated to a performance standard but easy when relating to each other. When the performance ends, they bow and walk off hand in hand. Wynonna’s chest rises and falls in the span of seconds.

    “How old is that?” Wynonna asks when Waverly closes the tab. It’s the first of many questions she has, one she knows Waverly will at least have the answer to. 

She jumps, not having noticed Wynonna was behind her, and clutches her chest. Her face floods with color and she looks down with the same guilty expression Wynonna remembers seeing when she got in trouble for staying out too late with friends on school nights.

    “I clicked it on accident and then it just started playing, it was so beautiful and I couldn’t help myself,” she starts but Wynonna holds a hand up, silencing her.

    “It’s fine,” she says, coming to her side and peering at the screen, elbows perched on the tabletop. “I had no idea he played any instruments.”

Waverly looks up, a little surprised, but gives her a sympathetic smile. Wynonna knows Waverly thinks she and Dolls are closer than they are- and sure, they’re close, but not like this. She never knew what he did before he joined Black Badge, hell, she doesn’t even know what happened in Kandahar. She knows a lot about him, more than she knows other people do, and she considers herself lucky for that, but there are people,  _ girls,  _ in the world like the cellist in the video who know him even better. 

    “It’s from June, almost four years ago,” Waverly says after a moment of checking. “There’s pictures of him with the girl, too...” 

    “Don’t go through his stuff,” Wynonna snaps, harsher than she intended to. “We’ve already seen enough. Just fix his computer.”

Wynonna turns away, a hand through her hair, mussing it more than it already is. She doesn’t care. She rubs Waverly’s shoulder briefly before leaving the room, wordlessly apologizing for her outburst, but she knows Waverly understands. After all, Nicole had a  _ wife  _ she didn’t even know about. They all have their secrets.

  
  


The next morning, Wynonna makes it about forty minutes into the work day before bringing it up, and at least half of that time was spent with donuts in her mouth so that she wouldn’t speak, wouldn’t have to look him in the eye. 

It feels wrong to know something he didn’t explicitly tell her; so much of their relationship, whatever it is, as complicated as it may be, is founded on trust and understanding, and she can’t violate that. Besides, she can’t keep her mouth shut.

    “Where’d you learn to play piano?” she asks nonchalantly, voice muffled through another donut- she  _ really  _ needs to stop stress eating. She flips through files so she doesn’t have to see Dolls’ face as her words register.

    “What?” There’s a pause, a delay of his movements, so poignant she can feel it, she imagines if she lifts her head his coffee cup might be frozen midair, halfway to his lips.

    “Waverly and I saw the video on your laptop,” she sighs. “We weren’t looking for anything, I promise, if anything Waves was the one who was looking for something to blackmail you with because I walked into the room and there it was, on the screen. It was an accident, we didn’t see anything else.” This time she pauses. “But it was beautiful.”

Surprisingly, Dolls doesn’t look mad. He smiles, tight-lipped and a little uneasy, but there’s a flicker in his eye, something prideful and open and honored.

    “You liked it?” he asks, eyebrows raised as he takes a sip of his coffee- a nervous tick, she’s identified over the past few months.

    “It was amazing. I never would have thought that you would be able to play like that.” Wynonna grimaces. “I mean...obviously you’re good at things, but I always pegged you as more of a guitar person or maybe even a singer or...”

Dolls laughs, giving her an excuse to cut off her rambling. “I know a little guitar too, but I haven’t played in years.”

    “Really?”

    “I played in high school but I wasn’t very good, it was just something I did when I was bored.”

Wynonna tries to imagine young Dolls, whatever high school archetype he was, strumming a guitar in his free time. She originally assumed he was one of those nerdy kids who never spoke up in class, got caught reading books when he was supposed to be taking notes, yet always aced his tests, but now she thinks he might have been more outgoing, more popular, maybe even the class clown. The video of him playing piano is enough of a shock, but learning that he had an even more prevalent musical past adds even more layers to the Dolls she thought she knew, and is now second guessing.

    “Who was the girl in the video?” Wynonna blurts out before she can think better of it, eager for the answer and desperate for a better read on what his life used to be like before he came to Purgatory, especially in a time when he was so happy. God, she’s rarely seen him smile the way he did in that video. She’s got enough cases to crack on a daily basis, it’s about time she gets a better read on him so that she doesn’t have to dance so precariously around him, her knowledge of who he is growing, but still not covering the basics.

He looks down, awkward, and clears his throat. Wynonna knows the answer before it even leaves his mouth. Still, hearing him say “ex-girlfriend” out loud stings in a way she feels like it shouldn’t, but she’s never been too good at reigning in her heart.

    “Where’d you guys meet?” she asks, trying as hard as she can to keep her voice level, nonchalant.

    “College,” Dolls says. “We were both studying music, it was her major and it was my minor. We found out after about a year that we didn’t really have that much in common besides music, though.”

A year. Dolls had a girlfriend for a year. Wynonna feels possessive and wants to slap herself, remind herself he’s not hers, she’s not his, and she shouldn’t be jealous of a girl who dated him when they were younger when she didn’t even know who he was. Besides, she has her own past too, far worse than his, she’s sure, and he lives with it.

Still, the burning feeling doesn’t leave. It settles in her stomach, stilling, and she wants to sigh because she’s tried to hard to keep her feelings in check, but it’s a moot point by now.

    “Was that your longest relationship?” she asks, and this time she’s really taken aback by herself. A visible look of regret spreads across her face, obvious and embarrassed, but Dolls just laughs. He sits down across the table from her, hand brushing hers ever so slightly as he takes a seat and smiles at her. She tries not to compare the smile to the same one he had given the cellist in the video, but it’s pretty goddamn similar and her heart is in her throat.

    “Three and a half years,” he answers, suddenly more relaxed. “We were family friends all through childhood so we all knew it was going to happen eventually, but then all the people who loved our relationship kinda pushed it too far, to the point where we were really only together for them.”

Wynonna nods slow, processing. “My longest relationship was nine months and I think we were both just too desperate,” she says and out loud it sounds dumb, sad. “But you know, people don’t love the Earp’s in Purgatory, so…”

It gets quiet for a moment, awkward only because Wynonna’s imagining Dolls as a boyfriend- celebrating dumb milestones like six months and one year and  _ three years,  _ buying presents and going out to dinner and the PDA. Just because she’s already embarrassed herself enough in the span of a day and she might as well be honest, at least with herself, she imagines herself as the recipient of all his attention and lets herself enjoy the concept. 

    “I really liked your piano video,” Wynonna says softly after the lingering silence feels like too much. She doesn’t know what else to say. “It was really beautiful.”

    “I'm a little rusty by now, I haven't practiced in months but,” he hesitates, just for half a second, and it wouldn't be obvious if she didn't know him so well, “but I could play for you sometime.”

It feels like the most intimate thing he's ever said to her- maybe the most intimate thing  _ anyone’s  _ ever said to her. 

All she can do is smile. “I’d like that a lot.”

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to send me feedback or just say hi in the comments or at my tumblr under the same username!


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